Adieu ma cherie
by end1essly
Summary: Hermione has finally found her match in the vivacious Draco Malfoy, but not everyone is excited about their love affair. A story about the delicate fragility of happiness, and of a young man turning his innocent infatuation into obsession. Oneshot.


Disclaimer: All characters and canon situations belong to J.K. Rowling. Whooness.

**Author's Note**: Disregard Epilogue, please. Much thanks to my GE beta, Miss Valady. Written for Grangerenchanted's "Hermione FQF fest" Oneshot.

Adieu, ma cherie

"_There is always some madness in love. But there is also always some reason in madness."  
-Friedrich Nietzsche_

The sky outside still exhibited the luxurious shade of deep velvety blue when Hermione rolled out of bed that morning, an ornate lamp casting yellowish light over the spotlessly clean interior of her old bedroom. Hermione was certainly not a morning person, nearly colliding with an armchair on the way to brush her teeth; hair frazzled and sweat stains lining the underarms of her cotton nightshirt.

_Of all weekends to have skyrocketing temperatures, _Hermione grumbled to herself, scrubbing her face extra hard in effort to brush the last remnants of sleep from her glazed brown eyes. Indeed, it was the hottest summer England had seen in centuries, the scorching 36-degree weather weighing heavily on her delicate frame. That was why she was up before six on a _weekend_, travelling in a horrid vehicle without a speck of air-conditioning.

_Remember, it's for the good of the Order,_ she reminded herself while slipping into a pair of her favourite frayed cutoffs and an airy peasant top, placing her neatly folded nightie at the top of her suitcase. After all, her parents had been kind enough to lend the car to the Order, seeing as their new flat in London made driving both obsolete and impractical. She certainly couldn't expect Harry or Ron to drive the little Citroen from her childhood home in Scarborough back to Grimmauld Place, could she? Let alone Draco, who thought the word "automobile", was just about the most hilarious word he'd ever heard.

"_Here's a hat and some suncream for you, sunshine!" he'd exclaimed, shoving a big floppy sunhat over her wayward curls, "Wouldn't want you to get all pinkish, because I'd have to rub your back with that wretched aloe vera…"_

_Hermione rolled her eyes and slipped her arms around his neck, nuzzling his chest. "I'm not the one channeling a vampire in this relationship, I think I can take a little sun."_

_Draco smirked down at her, the implication of her statement slowly sinking in. "You saucy wench!" he growled, sweeping her up and into his arms, spinning her around in wobbly circles. "I know for a fact that you __love__ my pristine complexion!"_

"_I certainly do," she responded once he returned her to earth, rubbing her fingertips over the angular masculine cheekbones she adored, "I love everything about you, of course!"_

_Draco made an "awwww" noise, then pressed a sweet kiss upon her lips. "The house just won't seem the same without you…I'll actually have to wank for once…"_

"_You cad!" she squealed, punching her boyfriend on his chiseled bicep, "Can't you resist getting off for a whole forty-eight hours?"_

"_Alas, I cannot," Draco sighed, employing his usual theatrics, "But honestly...be safe, okay? I can't remember the last time we were away from one another, and in such times I worry about you…"_

_Hermione smiled to herself as he took her into his embrace, his intoxicating natural scent making it very hard to resist jumping his bones right there in the courtyard. The two of them had been living together for almost two years in a stylish flat near the heart of Wizarding London, both enjoying profitable jobs at the Ministry. It was strange leaving their happy little abode, even for a small trip like the one she was taking._

"_I love you, my Hermione," Draco whispered softly in her ear, holding her tightly, fingertips brushing across her back in featherlike caresses._

"_And I you," she replied just as gently, pressing a kiss to his plump lower lip, entangling from the blond to pick up her traveling case. Draco helped her put on her traveling cloak and kissed her one last time. _

"_Come back to me!" he called out cheekily as Hermione walked down the street towards the neighbourhood Apparition Point._

Little did Hermione know, that would be the last she'd ever see of Draco Malfoy.

* * *

Little fragments of amber sun peeked out from over the hilltops as Hermione drove on down the country road, whistling a little Irish tune to herself to keep the mood light. The dew that had laced the early morning grass now drifted in the air as fog, turning the deep green of the forest into a diluted olive shade. Hermione half expected little creatures to appear singing and dancing, so idyllic was the scene that her lonely car passed by at so few hours past midnight.

The lack of passing cars and road signs made her trip certainly less than stimulating, so naturally her mind drifted towards other things, namely the crazy journey her life had taken since her Hogwarts years. At the ripe age of twenty-two, Hermione felt herself well adjusted to adult Wizarding society while simultaneously feeling the pull of youth, with the siren call of booze, sex and frivolity. She didn't do too much of the first one, except at the wild parties that the Weasley brothers held every other Saturday. Seeing Harry vomiting and making passes at Pansy Parkinson and Ron giving Luna Lovegood an impromptu lapdance was enough hilarious material to keep Hermione giggling for weeks.

It gave Hermione so much pleasure that the Golden Trio had stayed close despite growing up and going down different career paths. Ron was Keeper of his beloved Chudley Cannons and embroiled in an on-again/off-again relationship with Lavender Brown. (The Luna incident certainly hadn't helped things). The two had rekindled their feelings after Hermione and Ron had split in the last few days of the war, to the confusion of many. Luckily, Hermione had fallen head over heels for Draco soon thereafter, so no hard feelings were held over that pathetic sham of a relationship they'd had for a few awkward months.

Harry and Ginny were blissfully happy together, Ginny having spent the last six months of her life planning the minutest details about what was hailed by the Daily Prophet as "_The Wedding of the Century_". Harry had just graduated from Auror training and was shadowing Mad-Eye Moody, albeit reluctantly. The two were currently searching for a little house in the London suburbs, eager to start their own little family.

Hermione and Draco both worked for the Department of Magical Law Enforcement, meaning that indeed, the two were nearly inseparable. Draco worked for the Counterfeit Defensive Spells and Protective Objects office, his experience with Dark Objects making him a vital part of the department. Hermione was an assistant to the Wizengamot elder Tiberius Ogden, and was determined to be a full-fledged member by her twenty-fifth birthday, tackling the backgrounds of court cases with the same ferocity she used in every aspect of her life.

Hermione turned left at the fork in the road, and then prepared to go over a little cobblestone bridge. A dilapidated wooden sign edged the road, proclaiming in Old English: "Nott Brooke". Hermione giggled a bit as the car crossed the bridge and lead her even closer to the woods. It'd been so long since she'd talked to dear Theo!

Theo had been Hermione's closest friend since they had left Hogwarts, his quiet, studious manner a deep contrast from the males she was used to accompanying and carousing with. He'd fought valiantly by the Order's side during the war, to his Death Eater father's dismay, and therefore had gained Harry and Ron's deepest respect. He was also one of Draco's best mates, so he was a frequent visitor to their little flat. However, he had been living a life of seclusion in recent times, refusing to answer any owls and putting up wards around the studio he owned in the shady district of Whitechapel. This was rather worrying, seeing as Theo was one who was better off not being left alone.

"_He's being a git, honestly! I'm his best mate!" Draco bellowed, making some of the water splash about, Hermione wrinkling her nose as droplets hit her in the face._

_The two were sitting in their enormous claw foot bathtub, it being recently installed because of Draco's uncontrollable need to have the absolute best. Not that Hermione complained much: The bathtub was certainly a romantic place for the two to soak and speak about their busy lives._

"_Maybe he just needs a holiday from everyone," Hermione replied, gently scrubbing Draco's defined chest with a loofah, taking care to not rub against his Sectumsempra scars, which he admitted still caused him pain from time to time. "I mean, no one knows what the Unspeakables do, but he and Blaise seem to be in a constant state of high alarm…"_

_Draco cocked his head to the side as he considered her point. "I suppose so… but I have a feeling that something is quite not right. I mean, he's even ignoring you!"_

"_What's that supposed to mean?!" Hermione retorted, causing Draco's classic smirk to slide onto his handsome features._

"_Well," Draco began slyly, nearly laughing at the expressive scowl Hermione was exhibiting. "You do know he's had a massive crush on you since about third year, when you two were partners in Arithmancy and you were so polite and charming…"_

"_Oh, fuck off, Draco!" Hermione squealed, causing a brief water fight to ensue. After snogging heartily for a handful of minutes, the two settling against the side of the bathtub, Hermione entangled in Draco's strong arms._

"_I suppose that is true," Hermione replied, settling her head against her boyfriend's chest. "You don't think he's a bit distraught over our relationship?"_

"_We've been together for ages, though!" Draco exclaimed, pulling her closer__.__ "You would think he'd be used to the idea… Theo's probably just in a little spell of his. Before you know it, he'll be back, better than new."_

_Hermione couldn't help remembering the time when Theo had rushed into her office, pleading with her desperately to leave Draco before he ousted her to the Neo-Death Eaters. She'd been terrified, bursting into tears at such a horrible accusation, shocked at Theo's audacity! But that had been nearly a month before, and she'd chosen not to tell her other half, thinking that it would only worry him. Hermione matched Draco's radiant smile with a reassuring one of her own, then snuggled closer, her long eyelashes fluttering closed._

Hermione smiled to herself at the pleasant memory, now driving along a major roadway. It was nice to have fellow drivers alongside the Citroen, she felt less alone. It _was_ rather strange to be away from Draco, her ears oddly empty of the witty quips and nasty insults that he used at every available opportunity. He certainly was a bloody wanker, but she loved him, with a passion she never knew was lying dormant in her heart.

The couple had had a rocky start, Draco offering to spy for the Order in exchange for his mother's absolute protection an invaluable offer, but the Order had held their suspicions. Oh, how she and Draco had bickered back then, their rooms across the hall from one another at Grimmauld Place, her accusing him of playing games, the odd chest pain she'd felt when Daphne Greengrass came waltzing out of his quarters early in the morning. He'd been wretched and insulting, holding onto his childish ways that he'd had in school, and it took months before his hard exterior began to soften. But she and Draco were together now in every sense of the word, and Hermione was with the man who was her equal in every regard. To the Wizarding World's surprise, Draco had begun a light friendship with the Boy-Who-Lived, despite the fact that Harry had killed Papa Malfoy in the Great Battle.

Hermione turned on the little car radio, humming along with the popular Muggle tune that seemed to be everywhere these days. She was nearly halfway to London, where she'd stop by Harry's to pick up Ginny before returning home. Ginny wanted to go over last minute plans for the wedding that would take place in two weeks, and figured highly-organized Hermione would be able to point out any gaps in her schedule. Hermione sighed contentedly. Everything was going _so well_! Her close friends were getting married, work was highly challenging and rewarding, and she had the most amazingly wonderful man waiting for her at home. Theo was certainly an unfortunate blip in her perfection, but she trusted Draco's judgment. Theo just wasn't the type to do something rash.

* * *

Theo was pacing frantically across his living room, clutching the tiny scrap of paper in his fingers. His mind was even faster, millions of lightning-fast thoughts swirling in the expansive abyss. Theo had always been brilliant, dubbed "The Baby Genius" by the Prophet when he was a wee lad of four years old. His ability to devour books and levitate dishes was quickly overshadowed by the fact that Theo's father, Lukas, was becoming very friendly with unsavory characters: indeed, reporters never set foot on the Nott doorstep again.

A young man of such intelligence could have done wonders for the Wizarding World, finding treatments for Obliviation victims or creating new potions. But Theo's life was one of quiet seclusion, an only child whose father forgot he existed, and a mother who didn't live to see Theo's third birthday. Theo's presence at Hogwarts was miniscule, his reputation amongst Slytherin House as being the one to write Draco's essays being the only thing that prevented him from slipping into absolute anonymity.

His love for Hermione Granger, once a reverent adoration for the bushy-haired witch, had in recent times slipped methodically into a frightening obsession. How earnestly he had tried to keep her safe, using his status as an Unspeakable with Ogden to have her assigned only to mild cases, setting up his own personal wards around her flat, discussing a plethora of caring, considerate suitors at their coffee dates, seeing as she would never view Theo as anything but a friend. But of all men she could have chosen, she picked _Draco Malfoy_, who despite being Theo's one and only friend, still retained the presence of the worst type of scum in his calculating mind.

For months, Theo had sat on the outskirts, watching as Draco and Hermione fell deeper into love. He'd tried to warn Hermione of Draco's sordid allegiances, but only succeeded in scaring the knickers off his beloved angel. This time would be different. He would actually do something about the relationship that was doomed to end in heartbreak and misery. He'd holed himself in his studio, doing extensive research on Draco Malfoy's background, and even used some of his leftover family money to hire a private investigator to tail Draco at all times. There were those who wondered to what lengths Theo Nott would go to satisfy his insatiable thirst for knowledge: Oh, if they only knew.

In Theo's hand lay a note he'd nicked from Blaise Zabini's desk back at the Unspeakable office. When he'd stolen it, he'd expected a note recalling an inside joke, perhaps an invitation to drinks, everyday things that best mates communicated to one another. Theo would have filed the note away with his other information on Draco, if the letter hadn't featured a word that was constantly on his brain: _Hermione_. Naturally, Theo had gone berserk, pleading a sudden onslaught of sickness to his supervisor, and immediately Apparated home.

_What to do, What to do, _Theo thought desperately, kicking at the papers that lined the floor. Draco had invited Blaise over to his home to discuss "a very important decision, concerning Hermione, where I need your sensible input". Things were even worse than Theo thought! He had been inconsolable after walking in on the happy couple a few months prior, the incident signifying the beginning of Theo's self inflicted exile.

"_Hello?" called out Theo, as he tumbled out of Hermione and Draco's very dirty fireplace. Draco was forever entering Theo's studio without prior warning, so he decided the blond wouldn't mind if he returned the __favour.__ The flat was rather quiet, but Theo could hear something like a kitten mewling from the kitchen. Having received no reply to his greeting, Theo decided to investigate._

_The scene laid out before him would forever cement Theodore Nott in the Peeping Tom Hall of Fame: Draco had half-clothed Hermione up and on the counter, her legs wrapped tightly around his waist, and was screwing her like no tomorrow._

"_Gods, Draco, yes!" Hermione panted, her eyes squeezed tightly shut, fingernails scraping ineffectually against Draco's porcelain back._

_Theo was so utterly stunned that he nearly forgot to cast a Disillusionment Charm on himself, as to not alert the fornicating couple. He watched as Draco hoisted her even higher to penetrate her deeper, one of his large hands tweaking at her breasts while his lips led a heated trail across her collarbone. Hermione clutched at his platinum locks and let out a throaty purr, which made Theo close his eyes in pain. He certainly didn't want to watch Hermione orgasm because of that sick excuse of a man._

_An excited squeal caused Theo to stop his retreat, only to see that Draco had changed position, steadily thrusting into her from behind, to Hermione's absolute delight. Seeing as Draco's very fit arse was giving him a revolting headache, Theo left immediately, unfortunately not before he heard their blissful screams echo throughout the flat. He came home and promptly threw up the contents of breakfast, lunch and dinner in the blessed porcelain idol._

It was difficult to think of the perfect plan. Theo _had _to know what important matter Draco wanted to discuss with Blaise, but how could he be there at the same time? Disillusioning himself would be an option, but seeing as Draco wasn't as… occupied this time, Theo had a high chance of being discovered: Draco certainly was no bumbling Neville Longbottom. His pacing grew more frantic, and the young man began to pull out large chunks of his thick black hair, the weather outside getting darker by the minute. He picked up a copy of the _Daily Prophet_, getting midway through the description of an identity fraud case before letting the paper fall to the floor, his body sinking into the carpet just a few inches away.

Theo began to shake, fat tears rolling down his cheeks and condensing in his bushy goatee. _I must know! _he thought desperately, the gears in his brain grinding away haphazardly, _If I only were Blaise Zabini!_

An idea suddenly struck him, a crazy, evil idea that would go down in history as Theo Nott's last example of intellectual serendipity. He certainly couldn't _be _Blaise Zabini, but there were ways to appear as someone else… Theo Nott had never broken the law, avoiding the wrong side of the tracks like the plague because of the misdeeds of his father, but desperate times certainly called for desperate measures. For once in his pathetic life, Theodore Nott would get exactly what he wanted, no matter how insane he had to become to get it.

The young man slipped on his traveling cloak, making the first recreational venture from his home in months. First stop: Knockturn Alley.

* * *

Draco whistled merrily to himself, legs propped up on the coffee table and a large novel spread across his stomach. He had just finished dinner, and Hermione would be home in a few hours so that they could enjoy a nice quiet weekend at home, making love and soaking in the bathtub. Blaise was fifteen minutes late, which wasn't all that unusual: For being an Unspeakable, Blaise Zabini sure was a forgetful dunderhead. The fireplace crackled gently, the combination of the flames and his blanket keeping Draco toasty warm. He guessed it was an unfortunate gene passed down from constant inbreeding, for Draco was _always cold_. It had been sheer torture without Hermione last night, the only body heat radiating through the covers being that of her stupid cat, Penny. Crookshanks' successor was just as ugly, lazy and foul-tempered, and took a certain pleasure in clawing Draco's feet at night.

"Bloody feline", he muttered to himself, hearing a soft pop coming from the fireplace. "Oi, Blaise! Took you long enough!"

The tall dark man made his way to the sitting room, a sheepish grin on his face as he settled into the closest armchair. "Sorry mate, had one of those nutty charity collectors at the door, wouldn't leave me alone!"

Draco chuckled softly, and then closed his novel. "Fancy a drink, B? Mum got me this excellent Czech firewhiskey for my birthday, makes you completely plastered…"

Blaise raised an eyebrow, Draco smirking in response, bringing the bottle to the sitting room along with a few glasses.

"So what's this about Hermione, eh?" Blaise asked curiously, clinking his glass against Draco's and taking a hearty swig. "You not thinking of giving her the slip, are you?"

"For fuck's sake, no!" Draco replied hotly. "D'you think I'd have you over to talk about that? No, Blaise, I _love_ her."

Blaise chuckled, raising his hands in response. "I know, mate, I was just taking the Mickey out of you! What's so important, then?"

Draco's smug smile faltered then returned back, although a great deal more uncertain. "I know we haven't been together very long, but I think she might be the one, y'know?"

Blaise stared back at him, puzzled. "You were just telling me last month that the bint was driving you knackers!"

Draco frowned deeply, stretching his arms out in front of him. "Well, I'd be surprised if I didn't piss her off meself. But that's not important right now. The thing is, Blaise, I'm thinking of asking her to marry me tonight."

Blaise's reaction was very different from the one Draco expected. The young man's deep complexion turned ashen, mouth shaped in a grotesque O, and stared back at the blond with an expression of deepest shock.

"Bloody hell, Blaise, I thought you loved Hermione!" Draco retorted, standing up in exasperation, his hands waving wildly.

"Well, I do…" Blaise croaked weakly, still appearing as if he wasn't breathing properly. "But don't you think you should give it some time, first?"

Draco thrust his hand into his pocket, producing an obvious little black box. "I've already thought about it plenty! I thought you were going to support me, you bloody wanker!"

Blaise's eyes grew even wider at the sight of the ring, then met Draco's steely gray ones in a showdown. "Fuck off, Malfoy," he said, low and dangerous.

It was then and there that Draco knew this was _not_ his best friend, but the imposter managed to raise his wand before Draco could pull his out of his jeans pocket.

"_Sectumsempra!_" bellowed not-Blaise, causing Draco to double over in pain where the spell hit him in the chest. "How dare she love you, when I have protected her so reverently over the years, her lovely face the only thing on my mind!"

"Theo Nott, you fucker!" cursed Draco weakly, one fair hand clutching the shirt that was rapidly becoming scarlet as his eyes were wide in realization. "Why couldn't you just be happy for her? She never loved you, she loves me! Crazy fuck!"

Theo's eyes clouded over, and it felt that the guttural voice escaping his throat had never sounded less like his own. "_SECTUMSEMPRA! SECTUMSEMPRA!" _he screamed, limbs thrashing wildly as Draco's body finally hit the carpet, silent and immobile as a corpse.

It was then that time stopped for Theo Nott, his brain finally comprehending the horrible deed he had just committed. He slumped onto the carpet, mouth frozen in horror. Draco lay on the floor, mouth contorted in shock, eyes twitching as the blood drained from his chest, pooling around his blond head. The little black box was still clutched in his pale hand, skin turning paler as the seconds continued to pass.

Theo's eyes stayed fixed on that box as time passed, the minutes turning into an hour, as his body transformed from the deep skinned-man into his own pale scrawny form, as Draco's body finally stopped breathing even as the river of red continued to flow. The howl that escaped Theo's lips was a tormented, anguished one; the echoes making the walls shake eerily.

"My god, my god…" he chanted, standing up on wobbly legs that threatened to have him collapse. "What have I done?"

The realization hit him again and again on the way back to the fireplace, each time causing his legs to give out, crumpling into the closest piece of furniture. The thumps, smashes and tinkling of broken glass only contributed to the riot that was his mind, the skin on his fist completely numb even after punching a mirror to bits, his heart thumping at an otherworldly speed.

He screamed again and again until his voice grew hoarse, barely able to find the drive to give his address to the fireplace. His obsessive love for Hermione had driven him to the limits of sanity: but when had he become a monster, when had the line been crossed between man and psychopath? His mind kept reeling, twisting and turning, and for the first time in his twenty-two years of life, he wished that he could turn it off indefinitely, put the "Baby Genius" to eternal rest. Theo Nott was a criminal, committing the basest sort of crime: The murder of a most beloved friend, the seductive siren-call of jealousy. Theo didn't think he could live with the guilt.

* * *

Hermione giggled girlishly as she walked towards the flat, Ginny hot on her heels, chattering away about the latest Justin-Padma scandal.

"Can you believe it?! Being caught with a vibrator? I bet he'll simply die of shame!" Ginny declared dramatically, shoulders weighted down by the two bags she was carrying.

Hermione rolled her eyes, glad that her relationship with Draco was calm, normal and simple. "Well, perhaps he's not good enough in bed? I mean, us girls do need our release at times…"

Ginny let out a harsh laugh as the two approached Hermione's complex, red hair bouncing wildly. "As if you would have any experience with mediocre lovers, living full-time with the 'Slytherin God' and all…"

Hermione shot her friend a saucy wink as they walked up the stairs, stopping in front of her flat on the third floor. "Draco certainly keeps me satisfied… We've had sex all over the house! And have you ever tried a swing?"

Ginny's eyes grew wide, and began to babble incoherently. "Is that… even possible? And aren't you worried about being caught by some Peeping Tom?"

Hermione completed the series of complex unlocking charms necessary to gain entrance to the flat, then ushered Ginny in. "Oh, it's possible… You'll have to bring it up with Harry, maybe find a swing on the honeymoon? Draco, I'm back!"

Her voice rang through the house, which was silent as the grave, all lights extinguished even though it was late evening. Hermione frowned, and then lit several candles in the hallway, using _Lumos_ until she reached the kitchen with its Muggle electricity. Ginny set her bags on the counter, and then began rummaging through the cupboards to start a pot of tea.

"I thought Draco was going to be here to greet you?" the redhead asked unconcernedly, popping into the refrigerator for some milk. "Maybe he got caught up at the office?"

Hermione nodded, and then noticed the sound of crackling, indicating that the fireplace in their sitting room was in use. "Wait a second, Gin, I think Draco might be home…"

An excited smile was on her face as she swung into the sitting room, anticipating seeing her absolute favourite person after a long day of traveling. "Draco love," Hermione asked, seeing that a novel was resting on the coffee table. "Are you there? Ginny's about to make some tea, would you like to join us?"

The room remained silent, causing Hermione yet again to frown. Puzzled, she moved to circle the loveseat so that she could extinguish the flames, but her delicate foot hit a very solid object lying on the floor. Her distraught scream could be heard halfway down the street.

* * *

Harry knocked politely at the rickety wooden door and stepped back, his brow furrowed and mood certainly in a deep, dark place. Seeing as Draco's death was such a high-profile murder concerning Dark Magic, they had three Aurors working on the case. Alastor Moody was overseeing the operation back at Hermione's flat. If the murder hadn't been so personal, Harry would have been thrilled to have such an important first assignment, but the tormented wails of his best friend kept echoing in his skull.

The first thing to be done was to interview all of Draco's friends and associates, inquiring whether the deceased had any enemies or jealous lovers. Since Blaise Zabini wasn't expected to be home for several hours, Harry thought he could pop by Theo Nott's apartment and see if he had any useful information.

_Blimey, this place is creepy,_ Harry thought to himself as he waited patiently on the stoop, noticing that the front door was slightly open. Theo was a nice enough bloke, and Harry figured the quiet young man wouldn't mind if he entered uninvited. After all, Harry _had_ knocked.

Harry entered the narrow hallway, shutting the door behind him. The place was a wreck: papers lay everywhere, the sofa in the tiny sitting room was overturned, and the air hung with an acrid, burnt smell. The whole house appeared to be deserted, not a speck of light to be found in the studio. Harry frowned, lighting his wand, and progressed down the corridor. "Theo?" he called out loudly, his grip tightening when he heard a muffled thump from somewhere to his left. A low moan came from seemed to be Theo's linen closet, a few feet down the next hallway.

"What the fuck?" Harry exclaimed, as he slowly opened the door, a head springing out and onto the floor. Harry gently prodded the body attached to it, swallowing his fear and flipping the torso over. A barely coherent Blaise Zabini stared back at him, chest heaving from lack of oxygen, seeing as his mouth and nose were partially covered. Harry ripped off the material separating Blaise from air, and watched dazedly as the young man took deep, full breaths, his eyes barely open.

"Who… Who… Who are you?" Blaise asked dreamily, Harry noticing the gray cast over his pupils that was the mark of a powerful Memory Charm.

"I'm Harry Potter, a Ministry Auror," Harry replied, slightly amused that someone didn't know his name for once in his famed life. "And I'm here now, you're safe. Who did this to you?"

Blaise's eyes fluttered softly, the strain on his forehead evident as he tried to remember. "I don't... I don't even know where I am."

Harry placed a gentle hand on the young man's shoulder, levitating Blaise down the hallway and onto the righted sofa. He had a suspicion that Theo was responsible for Blaise's near death, as shocking and odd as it seemed. After promising to get Blaise medical attention when he returned, Harry strode down the corridor towards what he figured to be Theo's bedroom.

Harry would live to the ripe old age of 173, and work as an Auror for sixty of those years, but he would never see a more chilling sight then the one he encountered in Theo's bedroom. The ruby red blood smeared across the bed and on the walls was reminiscent of a Muggle horror movie, along with the broken furniture and paper shoved into the fireplace. Horrified and disgusted with what he had done, Theo Nott did not meet a kind end. His body hung from a silken cord a few feet from where an antiqued trunk laid, Theo's face purple and green from horrific suicide.

Harry had never slept well, and from that night onward, he became an insomniac. Draco's death was one that rocked the Wizarding World, his funeral making the front page of the _Prophet._ Indeed, Hermione never recovered from her boyfriend's brutal murder, choosing never to marry, living a quiet life and becoming a wonderful aunt for Harry and Ron's children. As for Harry, at night when Ginny slept peacefully beside him, he lay awake, the vision of Hermione's engagement ring dangling from Theo's neck permanently engraved in his mind.

Fin.


End file.
